


It's a Long Way Down

by ShadowMayura



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Behind the Scenes, Butterfly Effect, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Chat Blanc was bad, Episode Fix-it: s03 Chat Blanc, Episode: s03 Chat Blanc, F/M, Fixing Gabriel's characterization, Fixing OOC, GabeNath if you squint but mostly just tragedy, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I'm trying to create in-universe explanations for bad characterizion, Podfic Welcome, Sick Nathalie Sancoeur, Tragedy, Unresolved Gabriel/Nathalie, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowMayura/pseuds/ShadowMayura
Summary: The butterfly effect is a powerful thing. One domino tips, and the rest cascade after. The Guardian's tablet is shattered, and desperate souls fall after it. The pieces will show that it's a long way down.Or: A Chat Blanc fix-it fic that provides context for out-of-character moments in the original episode.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 28
Kudos: 35
Collections: GabeNath Book Club and Art Club Server, July 2020 - Rare Pair/Character





	It's a Long Way Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyMayura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyMayura/gifts).



> Thank you to [ KissMyAppleJuice ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmyapplejuice/pseuds/kissmyapplejuice) for beta-reading and to [ MyMayura ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymayura) for assisting with characterization and vocabulary.

Nathalie knew her fate was sealed on the day that Miracle Queen failed to secure a victory.

At the time, she had thought that it was a foolproof plan. Entire  _ months _ had been dedicated to stoking anger in Chloe Bourgeois, poking and prodding and waiting for her to snap. They had failed to make her a villain on the first attempt, but Nathalie saw something back then, as she pinned the volatile anti-hero to the ground, that even Gabriel had missed: seeds of doubt. Chloe could be broken — this she knew for a fact — and it would only take time and more careful planning to use that to their advantage.

And eventually, she was. Everything was painstakingly orchestrated in order to bring Miracle Queen to life. For one shining moment, it seemed that victory was finally in their grasp,  _ finally,  _ after a full year of trying, and failing, and falling, and being beaten down again and again. The Miracle Box was only feet away, Queen Bee was on their side, and it wouldn’t be long before the Guardian of the Miraculous would succumb, giving them a huge advantage.

But it wouldn’t last long. As if they were an extension of one another, Ladybug and Chat Noir were in perfect sync, smoothly defeating the mind-controlled heroes and regaining ground to defeat Miracle Queen, as well. Without even a word spoken between them, they jumped up to the rooftop on which Hawkmoth and Mayura stood. Ladybug attacked with startling ferocity as Chat Noir retreated to carry the Guardian to safety.

And just like that, over the course of less than a minute, all was lost.

Hawkmoth had swung his cane around, knocking Ladybug off the roof, but it was too late. The damage was done, and the Guardian was secure once more. Ladybug herself wasn’t even phased, breaking her fall with her yoyo before being caught by Chat Noir, who graced her with sickeningly adoring eyes that she merely shook her head at.

The sentimonster swooped in, and Mayura, too distracted in her task and weak from the battle, felt the Guardian’s tablet slip from her fingers. She lunged for it, and her fingers brushed against the edge, unable to stop it from falling down, down, down, to where it shattered on the sidewalk.

She knew, right then in that very moment, that any hope of her recovery was shattered along with it, laying in sharp pieces on cold concrete. The Guardian’s knowledge was the last possible source where they could find a way to heal her.

She had always known, from the first moment she picked up the Miraculous, that she was going to die from this, but she had hoped that it would be painless. She had hoped it would be a quick flash of light, bright and inviting, and then she would be gone, her life willingly exchanged for Emilie’s.

But with the tablet gone, she saw rumpled bedsheets and bloodied tissues in her future. Her remaining days would come all the more sooner, filled with fruitless doctor’s visits and the endless feeling of being underwater, held down by withered lungs without the ability to do the one thing they were meant to do.

And even worse, her sacrifice would be in vain.

She might as well have been taken by the heroes then and there — it would yield the same end result, after all. It might have even been better for her to tip off the ledge as well, following the tablet down. At least it would be quicker. But Hawkmoth, seeing how her feet were stuck in place and her knees trembled, lifted her into his arms and stepped onto the back of the purple beast she had conjured earlier in the day. She saw how his eyes drifted down to the pieces far beneath them, silently mourning Emilie all over again with the crucial information that had been lost by her clumsy mistake, but for her behalf, he said nothing.

Mayura felt as if she could cry, but she was so tired that the tears could not come, even if they wanted to. Instead, her head dropped against Hawkmoth’s shoulder, and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the nauseated swoop of her stomach at every twist and turn, and the pounding dizziness in her head that only grew with noise and movement and…

Stillness.

She barely registered as she was put gently into the back of the car. Gabriel may have spoken, but if he did, she was in no state to comprehend it. She was only aware of streaks of color, and the surprise that sprung up at noting the return of peach and dark violet tones to her blurry arms.

Her stomach flipped as tires rumbled down the road, but the sickness she felt couldn’t compare to the drowsing effect of the moving car on her exhausted body. Before long, her discomfort faded away, replaced by the choking black of unconsciousness.

* * *

She was on her back. Her body felt like it was made of heavy, brittle stone, but the surface underneath her was soft and forgiving as it could be, given the circumstances. There was a pinch on the inside of her arm, a pulling of the skin, and although she was feeling a hundred horrible sensations all at once, for some reason, she could only hyperfixate on that minor twinge, which grew more aggravating with every passing second. It was enough to compel her fingers to twitch and then to rise. Mustering every bit of energy she had, she swung her hand over to the crease of her arm, only to be thwarted by another hand grabbing her wrist.

“Miss Sancoeur,” a stern voice said.

Nathalie moaned, screwing her eyes shut even tighter. Other senses were starting to come back to her now, and the light beating against her lids sent waves of pain through her head. But the nagging sting in the crease of her arm was still there, so she braced herself and cracked her eyes open to see who was preventing her from addressing the problem.

As the haze cleared from her vision, she saw that it was another woman with her, someone with brown skin and dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail. She seemed familiar, but Nathalie struggled to place her. It wasn’t until she took note of the medical bag on the table and the stethoscope around the woman’s neck that she realized she was a doctor who had come to call on her before.

Nathalie turned her gaze down to her arm, hand following. There was an IV taped to her. She scoffed and moved to pull it out, only to be stopped again.

“Don’t,” the doctor warned. “You need that to stay in. You haven’t had anything to drink or eat in days.”

Nathalie grimaced as the reminder caused her stomach to rumble. As dissatisfied with the IV as she was, she pushed her task aside as an unworthy battle to fight at the moment, and she became fully aware that it was only the two of them in the room. “Where—?” Her voice cracked, and she began to cough, unable to finish her sentence.

A cup was forced into her hand. “Drink.”

She had half a mind to be offended at the bright pink bendy straw positioned inside, but she soon found herself grateful, as her hands trembled without any strength to keep them still. The cool water stung against the back of her throat, but the pain receptors coming to life were signs of her voice returning to her too. “Where is—?” Her voice was still hoarse, and another cough burst out of her.

Thankfully, the doctor seemed to understand her question. “Mr. Agreste?” She asked, and Nathalie nodded, taking another painful sip of water.

The doctor’s expression itched under Nathalie’s skin. There was something about those upturned brows and that skewed mouth that made her prickle with indignity.

Pity. The other woman was looking at her with pity.

Nathalie pretended not to notice, raising her chin with as much damaged pride as she could muster up as the doctor took her drink from her weak hands. “Yes.”

“I haven’t seen him today. He’s been checking in daily, but it’s a bit early.”

Cold dread trickled down Nathalie’s spine. “Daily? How long have I been unconscious for?”

“A week, Miss Sancoeur.” Nathalie froze, stunned. “I’m surprised you’ve even woken so soon. You’re in bad shape, and your body needs rest.”

She stared at her hands, lying limply on her lap. Slowly they curled into fists. “No,” she breathed. “I have to go find him. I can’t waste any more time.”

“There will be plenty of time for whatever you need to do once you recover.”

“I won’t,” she snapped. The doctor moved to restrain her, and Nathalie fought weakly against her. “You don’t understand.”

“If you don’t lay still, I will have to subdue you,” the doctor warned. “You are in no condition to be up and about.”

Nathalie turned to stone under the doctor’s threat.

“That’s better,” she said. Nathalie watched as she turned away, rummaging through her bag. “Now I need to check your vitals again.”

It was the opportunity she was waiting for. With the doctor’s back to her, Nathalie ripped out the infernal IV with a silent grimace, threw off her covers, and stepped into the chill of the unshielded air. Her limbs were like jelly beneath her, restricting her movements, and she realized too late that she still had medical devices attached to her. Monitors beeped and unknown wires pulled.

“Stop!” the doctor exclaimed, reaching quickly for a sedative. 

Nathalie stumbled a bit further away, willing her uncooperative legs to work. The doctor caught up to her in no time.

Her reflexes were still quick, even if her strength was low. She dodged the first grab for her, snaking out from the doctor’s reach, but she couldn’t keep it up. Soon, she was restrained, and there was a sharp pinch in the flesh of her upper arm.

She looked down, finding a syringe pushed into her. Instantly, the room spun, and she sank to her knees.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” she pleaded, trying to fight the fog that encroached on her. “I can’t waste a single chance.”

The doctor was unyielding, however, and needles couldn’t be reasoned with.

The sedative overtook her, and she fell into darkness once more.

* * *

She wasn’t herself for the next few days. Even after the sedative had worn off, Nathalie felt as if she was existing outside of her own body. At first, it had been a pleasant escape, to have her pain dulled and removed from her. Soon, however, it became disconcerting. Everything was hazy and confusing, and she felt unwell. As desperate as she was to return to the fight, she wasn’t willing to risk another needle to the arm. She couldn’t allow her mind to be undone any further.

As the days went on, she spent an increasing amount of time conscious. Her strength returned somewhat, though her pain persisted. The doctor kept waiting for the cough to improve. Nathalie knew it wouldn’t.

It was lonely in the guestroom where she resided, so empty and stiff that it had taken an embarrassingly long time for her to discern her own whereabouts. There was little to distract herself with, only a few dry books that her burdened mind couldn’t handle. The doctor was not very pleasant company, especially after her escape attempt, and she yearned for the familiar faces of those she loved.

She assumed that Adrien was not allowed to see her in this state, as it was common for him to worry, and he would certainly be here if he had been given the permission. Her very worst fears were realized at the absence of the older Agreste, however. According to the doctor, Gabriel had apparently stopped his daily check-ins once Nathalie woke the first time, and she hadn’t seen him at all herself.

He had never left her side like this before, and it was clear what the reason was now. He was surely furious with her for losing such a vital wealth of information. She was furious at herself too, so she could not blame him, as much as the act of abandonment squeezed at her heart with an unbearable, growing ache.

She didn’t see him for two weeks, not until she had recovered as far as she was going to, which her doctor was apparently not satisfied with. “She’s all over the place,” the woman explained, leading Gabriel into the room, “and her heart and lungs are weak without any apparent cause.” Nathalie’s whole being lurched at the sight of him, filling her with a sick feeling of dread as she took note of his hard-set jaw and the way he could hardly bring himself to even graze his eyes over her in his disappointment.

He turned his back to Nathalie as he spoke to the other woman. “What do you propose we do?”

“I see hospitalization as the only way forward,” the doctor said frankly. Nathalie shook her head, already dismissing the thought. “She’s improved under my care, but there is clearly something worse at play here than the vertigo I initially suspected. She needs to see some specialists and receive more monitoring.”

Gabriel let out a heavy sigh. His back was turned to Nathalie, but she knew his mannerisms well enough by now to tell that he had removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation, even without seeing his face. “Is there really nothing else to be done?”

“I’m sorry. Not here,” the doctor informed him. “How would you like to proceed?”

He stood still, contemplating. The only movement in his body was the rise and fall of his shoulders, and his empty hand, slowly curling into a fist.

Nathalie could tell, before he spoke a word, that he would reluctantly have her admitted. She couldn’t stand to see him further displeased, especially since her own careless error had brought them to this unfortunate situation. Beyond that, she’d also had more than enough of the monotony of lying in bed all day, her only pleasures being a mere ten minutes of freedom in the shower, and the fleeting company of a doctor who disliked and distrusted her. 

He finally turned to look at her, face drawn tight with conflict. “Alright. If that’s what you think is best.”

Nathalie was ready with her response. “No,” she said firmly, staring him directly in the eye. He glanced away, seemingly unable to maintain contact. “What can be done has been done already. We need to get back to work,” she insisted, imbuing her words with meaning. Gabriel seemed to catch it, tilting his head towards her with a troubled frown on his lips.

“I can’t advise that,” the doctor protested, but neither Nathalie or Gabriel were truly listening at that point. They were having a whole other conversation of their own, speaking a secret language they’d perfected by now to hide their misdeeds.

Gabriel’s breaths were slow and deep, so calm in contrast to Nathalie’s own fluttering breathing. “And what if there is no work left to be done?”

Her lip trembled at the thought of him giving up. Had his spirits truly fallen so far? Maybe they had shattered on the pavement along with the Guardian’s tablet. “Of course there is. Don’t be absurd, sir. There’s always something to be done.”

“Miss Sancoeur!” the doctor exclaimed, bringing them both back to notice her. “I understand your job is important, but you must prioritize your health. Mr. Agreste, please. Don’t encourage her.”

He blinked rapidly. “Of course.” He returned his glasses to his face and said, “She will seek treatment at the finest hospital. I’ll see to the arrangements.”

“I will not.” Nathalie swung her legs out from under the covers, and put her foot down, literally. “You and I both know how this works, sir. Now isn’t the time to be naïve. I’ve recovered all I can, and a hospital won’t help. I refuse to waste my remaining time hooked up to machines.”

His brows sprung higher than she’d ever seen them, revealing deep shadows around his eyes. “Nathalie.” The sound was raw with surprise, croaking weakly out of him. He abruptly turned away to pace the length of the room.

The doctor’s horror mirrored his. “There’s no reason to think you wouldn’t live a long, healthy life without proper intervention. Don’t make a rash decision.”

“Sir,” Nathalie called. She needed to see his face, needed to know that he still had some spark of ambition in him to continue on. “Gabriel.”

He turned, and she saw fire in his eyes, indistinguishable in its source, but present. The heat traveled up her spine, building her bones back up tall, and before she knew it, she was standing, more sure than ever.

The will was there, but he was fighting it back, not allowing it to burn freely. He broke away from her again with the blaze in his eyes cooling, shaking his head and averting his gaze to the window. She tried to hold him in her stare, but he was able to evade her. “I can’t allow it. It’s a terrible idea.”

“Yes. It is,” the doctor agreed. “I will start making arrangements for a hospital stay.”

“Mr. Agreste is my employer, not my conservator,” Nathalie said sharply. “As it stands, I make my own decisions regarding my health, and I have decided not to go. Thank you for your care, but it will no longer be needed.” She stood stiffly, daring either of them to argue with her. Her fingers twitched against her thigh, counting down the seconds until it was clear that nobody would attempt to force her. She hated the weight of their eyes on her, and she was relieved to finally bid the doctor, “Good day,” and exit the room.

She held her head high in spite of being jolted by the beating of her heart, so strong and rapid that she could feel it in her throat. She reached up to search for the pulse with her fingers and immediately flushed as she realized she was still in pajamas, not very well covered at all by the flimsy nightgown hanging from her frame.

It was fortunate that she was well-prepared and organized, or she might not have had a few spare clothes at her desk. Praying that she would not run into Adrien on the way, she tiptoed down to the office, retrieved a turtleneck and slacks, and slipped into a bathroom to change.

For the first time in the days she’d been wearing it, the nightgown gave her pause. It wasn’t hers, but she now noticed it wasn’t a standard hospital gown either. The fabric was higher-end, some kind of silky cotton blend, and it fell fairly short on her. Heat flooded her cheeks a second time as she realized that she must be wearing Mrs. Agreste’s clothing. She couldn’t imagine Gabriel allowing it, and she was shocked he hadn’t commented on it upon sight. Perhaps he had been too distracted to notice. She’d been wearing it for days and not noticed herself.

Once she dressed herself, she quickly made her way back to her desk, stuffing the nightgown into her bag. She would wash and return it, hopefully before he ever noted its absence. Satisfied that it was decently hidden, she turned to her desk, resolved to catch up on as much work as possible before he inevitably came downstairs.

She became aware of his presence very slowly. It started with a slight shift in the air, which she attributed to the nighttime chill settling in, but before long, the weight of his eyes on her became impossible to ignore. She was curious to see whether he would announce his arrival or not, and she finished up her email without acknowledging him. It seemed he wouldn’t break his silence until she turned her attention to him, so she did, task completed. He hovered in the doorway like a specter, making no moves to approach any closer.

She would speak, but she had no words to give him. It seemed that he felt the same, so they only stared, searching for the way forward in each other’s eyes.

“Why are you so determined to die?” he finally ventured. There was no tone in his voice, only breath, and the frigidness of it sent a shiver through Nathalie’s bones.

“I’m determined for us to succeed,” she corrected him.

“Resigned to it then,” he pressed.

She glanced down at her hands, still positioned over the keys. “We always knew how this was going to end.” She only regained the strength to look at him after she’d spoken, the words unable to retreat back from where they came.

His stare intensified, and he almost looked possessed — pale and gaunt in the low light of the waning day, with widened eyes boring into her. “Did we?” His own words seemed to startle him, and he shook his head. “You’re not feeling well. It’s understandable that you would expect the worst, but it won’t come to pass.”

Her heart ached, all but bursting out of her as he pushed aside his own grief in an attempt to comfort her. She tried to smile, desperate to give him at least that. “Sir, I have no delusions about my fate. There’s no need to shield me from it.”

“Stop it. Just stop it,” he growled, beginning to pace in front of her desk. “You yourself told me that the future isn’t set in stone! We can change things!”

“There are many things we can,” she assured him. “We can still beat Ladybug and Chat Noir. You can still bring Emilie back. But my illness has long been set in motion, and I know I have limited time left.”

He stopped just as abruptly as he had started. “Are you certain?”

“I can’t make promises, but I’ll try my best.”

“No, not that,” he snapped. “Are you sure that there’s no going back? Are you sure that you are going to—?” He cut off, raising his head to stare up at the ceiling.

She wanted so desperately to reach out to him, to provide comfort, but now was the time, more than ever, to cleave more distance between them. She would be gone soon, after all, and Gabriel would have to learn to adjust to life without her. With any luck, it would be with Emilie at his side, but she knew it was best to plan for the worst. He would need to be prepared to be alone.

“I’m slowing down. I don’t bounce back like before.” She folded her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to pick nervously at the sharp edges of her nails, which hadn’t been filed in days. It became painful to look at Gabriel, so conflicted where he stood, and her eyes skirted over to the shining, golden portrait of Mrs. Agreste. “I remember how she was, when there was no going back,” Nathalie said softly. “At the time, it wasn’t a place I could recognize, but I know I’m there now. The certainty with which she told us she was going to die I now feel growing in the pit of my own stomach, as much as I hate to leave you behind with no one left to assist you.” She turned her attention back to her desk, and determination filled her. “But it is different for her. You mustn't give up, Gabriel. It may be the end for me, but you can still bring her back. We just need to get those Miraculous.”

When she looked back up at him, she expected to see the soft, mournful eyes she had turned away from moments before. It was akin to a slap in the face to see how quickly he had moved on, brow lowered in determination and shoulders set squarely. Gone were all traces of grief, replaced by laser-sharp focus and a will to take action. “Do you think we can still pull it off?” he asked, and even the tenderness in his voice had vanished, leaving rugged stone behind.

“I do,” she said, swallowing back all the hurt that sprung up. As long as she was here, she still had a job to do. “But you have to let me throw caution to the wind. Now is not the time to play it safe; you need Mayura, and the time you have left with her is fleeting.”

“No,” he said quickly. He crossed the room, grabbing his tablet from the stand. ”Not unless we have no other choice.”

“We  _ don’t  _ have another choice,” she argued. “We’re out of time. If you want her back, this is the way!”

“Not yet,” he said, and she was astounded at how even his tone remained. “I do have a plan.” He worked fast, quickly navigating on his tablet and beginning to type feverishly.

Nathalie felt the urge to join him and see what exactly had inspired him so greatly, but the enormous burden of twisted magic on her body weighed her down, tempting her too much with the relative comfort of her chair. “Already?”

He shook his head and somehow began to type even faster. “It’s been in the back of my mind for a long time. I discredited it as too drastic, but it sounds like drastic is what we need now.”

Curiosity continued to nag at her. She craned her neck up, as if she could possibly hope to see what he was working on from across the room, but it was all she could muster up the will to do. She waited for further explanation, but Gabriel gave her none, hunching further and further over his tablet like a mad scientist nearing the end of his experiment.

“What is it?” she finally prompted him. “Drastic how?”

He looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there. He shook his head once more. “Don’t concern yourself with that now. I’ll let you know when I’ve finessed the details.” He paused, straightening up for just a moment to look at her. “Go home, Nathalie. You need the rest now more than ever.”

With an internal groan, she pushed herself to her feet, knowing she would never rise if she didn’t do it then. “Okay, sir. Have a good evening.” She lingered in the doorway, unsure of whether she should speak her mind, but ultimately walked out. It seemed too cruel to remind him that it hardly mattered either way. Even if she did preserve her strength, her life would be traded for Emilie’s in the end, once the Miraculous were in their possession.

* * *

“Are you mad?” Nathalie cried, storming away from him. Each clack of her heels against the hard cement of the lair sent a painful vibration up her spine, but she paid it no mind. Butterflies flew out of her path, and one unlucky one may have been crushed under her shoe. Normally she would feel bad, and she always made a point to tread carefully around the delicate creatures, but in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care, not after hearing the most depraved plan that had ever been proposed to her. “You are talking about trifling with your own son’s happiness!”

“Worse things will trifle with his happiness if we don’t,” Gabriel said, leaning back against the wall, seemingly content to watch her agitated pacing. “Namely, the loss of another very important woman from his life. I cannot let him go through that again.”

Nathalie stilled in her movements, torn apart as anger and guilt mixed together inside her. It was terrible of her, but she would sometimes forget that she wasn’t only hoping to bring Emilie back for Gabriel’s sake. Adrien had lost a mother, and Nathalie of all people should have understood how deep that pain was for someone so young. The death of her own mother over twenty years ago still managed to pierce into the most vulnerable corners of her heart, reducing her to a helpless mess in the moments she least expected it, triggered by something as simple as a fleeting memory or a stressful day.

“Marinette is an important woman in his life, too,” Nathalie protested, but she was well aware that her convictions had weakened, and it showed. She broke down coughing, almost thankful for the excuse to look away from him.

“There will be other chances for Adrien to find love, if all goes well.” Gabriel pushed himself off the side of the wall and brushed the dust from his shoulder, approaching her. “Maybe even with the same girl. In the grand scheme of things, this is far from permanent.” He must have been troubled by the remaining doubt written on her features, because he then sighed and added, “We can even plot to get them back together later, if that’s what it takes to ease your conscience.” She remained unconvinced, and the corners of his lips turned down. “Is it so unforgivable, knowing what the cost will be otherwise? The cost of a life snuffed out too soon?” The question seemed to be genuine, which hurt her all the more.

She wanted to say no, but the thought of inflicting so much pain on the boy she loved almost like her own son was unbearable. She didn’t understand the need for the injustice, why the sacrifice had to be to Adrien’s detriment instead of literally anyone else’s. She would walk her own bare feet across coals twenty times if it meant that they didn’t have to meddle in his relationship, but there was no self-torture she could inflict that would take away the necessity to involve him in Gabriel’s plan.

Dizziness swooped in, and she fell to her knees, feeling every bruise that would blossom as they cracked against the floor. Gabriel cursed at his inability to catch her in time, but Nathalie was grateful for the space, nervous that she might lose the contents of her stomach at any moment.

“Nathalie.”

She tried to assure him with the typical, “I’m fine,” but her airway lit up with pain, sending her into cough after brutal cough. Thick metallic flavors burst on her tongue, and she tried to swallow it back without drawing Gabriel’s attention. He was too observant for his own good, eyes focusing in on where blood surely speckled her lips.

She hated the way that Gabriel’s eyes dulled like hardened steel, more steadfast than before. “It can’t go on like this. It simply can’t,” he said. “I know this is unpleasant, but it must be done. I am doing this, Nathalie. Are you in?”

She collected herself as best as she could, wincing as the room spun. She had long lost the capacity for deep breathing, but her breaths felt exceptionally shallow in that moment, barely allowing her to take in the oxygen she needed to remain conscious. “I can’t.” She blinked static out of her eyes. “I can’t do that to him.”

“You don’t have to,” he reminded her. “I will do all the talking. You only need to hold the tablet. After that, my rules will need to be enforced, but I’m sure we can get Gregori to do the majority of that.”

She held her head, trying to process the words flying at her. Now that Gabriel was closer, she could say that his eyes were not emotionless at all, instead holding back a flood of repressed worry and uncertainty. Her doubts churned within her, fueled by the fact that even Gabriel was unsure of his plan. “Do I even have a choice?”

He cast his eyes down to the ground. “I am doing this, with or without you, but I cannot force your involvement. I can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and see that this is all for the best.”

She rose to her feet, brushing aside the arm extended to her as she shakily stood on legs like uneven matchsticks. She didn’t trust herself to speak or look at him, afraid of what might burst out of her. Instead, she turned around and headed for the exit from the lair.

“Where are you going?” Gabriel asked.

She stopped, eyes tracing the crevices of the secret port on the floor beneath her. “To break a poor girl’s heart.” She allowed the passage to carry her down, concentrating deeply on maintaining consciousness as the motion threatened to topple her.

* * *

Rain had just begun to fall as Nathalie returned to the Agreste mansion. She had neglected to take an umbrella with her, and the sudden shift in climate as she stepped indoors had a strong impact on her overwhelmed and overworked body. Cold rainwater dripped down her back, and she found herself stifled in the heat of her turtleneck at the same time. She alternated between sweat and shivers as she entered the office and approached the lair.

Rising from the floor was worse than descending into it, and although she remained on her feet, she blacked out for a second or two. It took her a moment to realize she had stopped moving and to regain her bearings. Gabriel was already turned into Hawkmoth, which filled her with simultaneous sensations of anticipation and dread.

“Did it work?” she whispered.

It must have, if he was already prepared like this. But to her surprise, he shook his head. “Miss Dupain-Cheng is a strong-willed individual. She hasn’t been broken yet. We’ll wait until she comes to confront Adrien.”

“Must we break her?” Nathalie protested. “Must we break  _ him?” _

To his credit, Hawkmoth winced. But even Nathalie’s reminder of what this would do to Adrien was not enough to deter him. “Remember we can fix this all. After I have the Miraculous, they can be together again. He will heal in time. We all will.”

Nausea threatened Nathalie once more. She closed her eyes to fight it, but it seemed to persist. She couldn’t determine whether it came from anxiety or a guilty conscience, but either way, it built within her, compounding on all the other unpleasant symptoms she held — her throbbing head, her dizziness, and the runaway breath that she couldn’t seem to catch. “I can’t do this,” she gasped. “What are we thinking? We have to stop!”

“No,” Hawkmoth growled. “It’s far too late to turn back now. We  _ will  _ rise above the heroes and finally get what we have been working towards for so long. If it’s too much for you to handle, then go keep watch and stay out of my way.” He turned away from her, showing only his back as he looked out from the ornate window of his lair.

“Sir.” She shivered. “Gabriel.”

Hawkmoth merely shook his head. 

Hysteria began to overtake her, an extreme state that few had ever seen her in, and certainly not Gabriel himself. Suddenly, escape became imperative, and she stumbled back over to the platform, nearly falling over as it jolted beneath her.

When she landed in the atelier, she fell forward, rolling into a pitiful ball on the ground. Her chest burned with each breath, and it felt as if her heart and lungs were no longer partnered with one another, struggling independently and failing to be productive. Once more, she feared she would lose consciousness, and she forced her breaths to slow. The air still sat shallowly in her lungs, but finally, her lightheadedness subsided. She counted in and out until she had reached a sustainable pace again, and all of the sudden, found herself to be quite ashamed of her outburst as logic and reason returned to her.

She looked back at Emilie’s portrait, wondering if she should enter the lair once more to apologize for her actions. “Don’t be foolish,” she muttered to herself as she stepped away from the platform. Hawkmoth would not be pleased by another interruption, and she had a job to do, if she wished to be useful and not allow this awful enterprise to be in vain.

There would be plenty of time to make up later.

The tension was still there, creating knots in her shoulders and radiating an ache down each of her arms. She tried to shake as much of it off as possible as she ascended the staircase, but it lingered. Only one floor up, the air felt thinner, like it could snap if she moved too quickly through it, but she persisted, finding a vantage point to watch from in the spare upstairs office.

The rain was coming down harder than before, the sky turned a foreboding, swirling gray. The pounding sheets of rain would typically lull and sooth her, but today, it set her further on edge. She ground her teeth as thunder crashed, ignoring the pain that snaked up her jaw. Her heart pulsed erratically, dreading what was to come.

It seemed to take an endless amount of time before a small figure turned the corner, and Nathalie’s heart wrung in her chest, writhing with guilt. A flash of pink capris confirmed that it was Marinette, and Nathalie scrunched her eyes closed, trying to dispel the images that came up of the heartbroken expressions of the girl. Never before had she despised so deeply what she and Gabriel had to do. Never before had she been so crushed by the weight of her own actions.

The large black umbrella drew closer at a slow, steady pace. It was a funeral march, a reluctant walk of grief and suffering. Nathalie turned her head, attempting to look away, but her eyes couldn’t unstick themselves from the movement of the umbrella, growing and darkening with every step, as if it could expand into every corner of her vision and swallow her up.

Marinette stopped short of the front steps and stood still. Nathalie imagined that she was in conversation with Adrien at the front door, though it was hard to tell without being able to see her face. After a minute or so, the girl turned away, running from the mansion.

Pain radiated through Nathalie’s chest at the sight, sending unwelcome stars to taunt the corners of her vision, but Gabriel would not be pleased by any additional displays of emotion by her. She schooled herself to as much rigid neutrality as she could before raising her phone to her ear. “Everything is going as planned, sir.”

“Excellent,” he responded. “It won’t be long before we rise to victory.”

She couldn’t bear to hear the rest. She lowered the phone once more and watched, feeling as if the floor underneath her was rocking back and forth, attempting to topple her over.

Marinette sat down on the steps down to the Métro, and an akuma was quick to follow. What caught Nathalie’s eye, however, was a blur of blonde hair below. Her heart jumped in her throat as she realized Adrien had somehow thwarted Gregori and gotten outside.

“No!” she cried. “What is he doing? Adrien—”

He sprinted forward.

“Stop!” she yelled, even though he could not hear her through the glass between them.

There was a flash of green light, and Adrien was gone. Somehow, inexplicably, Chat Noir was in his place.

She couldn’t understand how he had gotten there, too deep in denial to accept what she had just witnessed. It wasn’t until he had summoned his Cataclysm, dissolved the Akuma with it, and allowed Marinette to throw herself into his arms that she had to accept the truth, and horror filled every crevice of her being.

The squeezing anguish in her chest radiated throughout her whole body, and all she knew was pain. She had fought hand-to-hand with  _ Adrien.  _ She had inflicted bruises and beatings on  _ Adrien.  _ She had attempted to trick him, she had even been unafraid to kill him, if that’s what it would take to secure victory. She had had no idea of all the harm she had been inflicting in her attempt to help, but it seemed like a pitiful excuse now, for even if she hadn’t known that Chat Noir was her boss’s son, she knew that he was  _ somebody’s _ son. He was cared for by someone, loved by  _ someone. _ Tragically, that someone was  _ her. _

“Nathalie? Nathalie.” Hawkmoth was calling to her, counting on her to be his eyes, even as she stood there, wishing to tear hers out.

A trembling hand brought her phone back up to her ear. Throbbing regret lit up the tips of her fingers. Numbly, she told him, “It’s Adrien, your son. He’s… he’s Chat Noir.”

She couldn’t hold out for a response. Her arm dropped to her side, and the phone slipped from her limp hold a moment later, cracking on the floor. Her strength had left her all at once, and she could not breathe. The pain was unbearable, shooting from her chest into every extremity of her body.

She tried to count in breaths and calm herself and found she could not. She coughed stale air out of her lungs, but none drew in to replace it. She weakened all at once, legs giving out on her and sending her towards the ground.

She knew she should be moving downwards, but it didn’t feel like she was. Even with the floor at her back, surprisingly warm up against her skin, she felt like she was ascending, up through the darkness. Agony still moved through her, pushing on her chest, but it could not hold her there. She rose above it, detaching herself from its greedy fingers, and all it was was a lingering touch, a phantom sensation of a body that wasn’t hers.

She flew, up through the roof, making her escape from the wretchedness of herself. Darkness enveloped her, but she could feel rain on her skin and wind in her hair, and it calmed her, washing away her sins and blowing away her pain. She continued her ascent, paying no attention to the chilly mist on the back of her hand as she journeyed up through thick rainclouds.

Finally, when it seemed like the black was eternal, she saw a peek of sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy GabeNath fanfic? Sign up to participate in the [ GabeNath Reverse Bang ](https://gabenathreversebang.tumblr.com)! Sign ups close on August 1st, so don't wait!


End file.
